Bleeding Out
by NalaWrote
Summary: The first instalment: Savana Oakes returns from Holland to her parents only to cross paths with the beautifully terrifying Roman Godfrey, almost as terrifying as the sexy, yet twisted relationship that ensues.
1. Chapter 1

His eyes had seen mine before I saw his. Those green, green eyes, always tired, always watching. I could see the pain behind them before he even spoke.

"My place." He whispered as he lowered his lips to my ear, fingers wrapped around mine as he led me through the crowds with him. I had only just met this man, but he was perfect.

The club had lost two customers. It was cold on my bare legs outside, breath forming clouds as he lifted me into his arms like a child. Mouth to mouth, he drew out the passion I never knew existed; my hands tangled in his hair; he growled deep in his throat; I swear I could not have been more consumed by overwhelming lust than I was right then.

He hailed a cab and tossed me in the door. I was his.

I couldn't remember him paying the driver; who could refuse those tired eyes?

I heard a key turn in the lock, too loud for the moonlit darkness. The door was black, an ominous door for a terrifying house. It worked. My feet burned. A burn that came from dancing in shoes too high. Unnecessary. He removed my shoes before he removed his own.

He took me into the hallway, pressed me to the wall. My legs wrapped around his hips he smiled, the kind of smile that takes lives. Lifting my dress over my head I was left vulnerable, but I was not nervous; his eyes forbade it.

I unbuttoned his shirt. The material pooled around his feet, longing to be returned to the contact of his torso, cold, hard, alabaster. My fingers traced the lines of his pectorals, making their way down his stomach, he watched me with that intent look in his eyes, smiling, leaning down to kiss me.

I had no name here. I was a slate wiped clean, for him to build upon what he wanted, I would be anything for him. Do anything.

His hands took my thighs, holding me close to him, walking up the spiral staircase like mercury. He took my lower lip in his teeth, I could feel his smile. Tongue met tongue, tentative, searching, searching for an escape, searching for a familiar.

I would never know if he found it.

He walked into his door backwards, pushing it open; nothing refused this man.

Fuck. It was four-poster. The modern kind, the kind that was for the educated, the rich. The kind that was for his people.

He lowered me down with him onto the silk sheets. My bra was undone with five deft fingertips and my head tilted back of its own accord. His lips pressed onto my throat, baring his teeth, gentle pressure applied, an expert. I writhed beneath his touch. Ached for him.

He trailed kisses over my collarbone, between my breasts, startlingly pale in the moonlight that filtered through the windows, down my stomach, the sensitive skin above my underwear. I gasped. His eyes met mine. He smiled.

I should be scared of him, I had never met him. His lips forbade it.

The belt was gone, his trousers on the floor, boxers lying desperately next to them, yearning for him. My underwear was gone too, I couldn't remember that happening. He made me forget.

His fingers ran through my hair, his thumb resting on my jaw. I could feel the muscle beneath the skin. He could kill me right now if he wanted. Move my head the right way and my neck would break. I didn't care. His other hand caressed my breast like a broken bird, with gentleness he didn't know he had.

With his lips descending, he pressed into me. My mouth opened in pleasure and his tongue traced my lips before he kissed me, tender, wanting, insistent. My fingernails dragged along his shoulder blades and he trembled. He was so beautiful.

He withdrew and returned, slowly, giving me time to recover, harmonious. We were creating music for the Gods, a sweet melody, perfect.

Bodies so close they were one, I could feel his heart beat against my quivering chest, feel his breath on my neck, warm, like an ocean breeze in summer. Mine came in ragged gasps as he moved inside me, relentlessly strong but gentle, and I could feel myself climbing.

His arms were wrapped around my shoulder, fingers tangled in my hair, protecting me from lightning, saving me from an unknown danger.

His teeth bit the skin between my jaw and throat, tongue stroking the jugular, it sent me over the edge. I cried out in ecstasy, and he smiled into the kiss. I could feel his muscles tense as he came, and he exhaled into my neck, the sighs of a million generations of lovers released in that one pure moment.

His body collapsed onto mine and he kissed me with ferocity I wouldn't have thought him capable of.

"What is your name?" I asked, panting softly between words.

"Roman." He replied, smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

He rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, mouth open in a solitary mask of contentment. I should have known this name. He stared, incredulous.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?" His tone was shocked, questioning.

` "No." I answered. "Does it matter?"

"Not particularly."

His thumb stroked my cheek, green eyes willing, wanting. I reached to kiss him, lips touching for the briefest of moments.

"Drink?" He asked, proceeding to pull a bottle of whisky and two glasses from the bedside table.

I nodded. Sitting up, he poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to me. I propped myself up on my elbows, drawing the sheet over my naked chest. He lit a cigarette and took a drag, slow, lingering, beautiful. The smoke left between his lips, how envious I was of that smoke. He gave me a drag, then stubbed it out on the table.

I took the whisky like a shot, never noticing he had already drank his, and he turned onto his side, facing me, intimidating.

"Do I scare you?" He asked, retrieving a razor blade from the table and drawing it across his collarbone, dark beads of scarlet instantly coming to the surface.

I shook my head.

He removed the blood with his fingertips and grasped my throat, leaving ruby fingerprints, perfect in their brokenness. "I should do." He said.

In answer, I took his wrist and guided his thumb between my lips, tongue gliding over the skin like water. He tasted of copper and whisky and cigarette smoke. He pulled away from me.

"You shouldn't have done that." He warned, but his tone was less than threatening.

The razor blade was still in his hand and he cut the other side, deeper than the first, and blood dripped down his chest. I should have been disgusted but it was beautiful to me.

He poured another two whisky's and he clicked my glass. "To the lost." He said as we lifted the glasses to our lips and swallowed, eyes screwing shut at the bitterness. Setting the empty glasses on the table, he lay back down, facing me, eyes intense. Blood was staining the expensive sheets, drops of innocence leaving their mark.

I sucked the remaining blood off his fingertips, and he laughed, a noise that reverberated through his chest, deep and lustful.

I bent to the fresh wound on his collar, and licked the blood there too, before kissing him.

"I didn't know I tasted this good." He smiled.

I straddled him, and he lay his hands on my thighs, expectant. He was already hard again. Lowering myself onto his, he tightened his grip on my legs and inhaled, closing his eyes.

"Good?" I asked with a sly grin, already knowing the answer.

He sighed in reply as I lifted myself off and back onto him, slowly, leaving him wanting, needing. His hand slid up to my waist, tantalisingly soft, then to my breasts, thumbs circling over nipples, then up to my throat pulling my down to his lips.

My pace slowed as he whispered in my ear "Don't scream." Before he sank his teeth into my throat, opening a vein. I felt the blood trickle onto my chest, but it didn't hurt. His tongue lapped up the liquid that escaped and then kissed me.

"You taste better." He said, as his hands moved back to my thighs, tracing circles on my skin, it was heaven.

I was the one smiling for once as I resumed, his arms using their strength to support me, I felt his muscles flex with each movement. Waves of euphoria spread through my body like wildfire, like magic. He was magic.

I bent down to trace his wounds with my tongue and he gasped. "Fuck." He said, as my hands lifted his over his head, pinning him down.

I felt freedom like no other as my hips circled against his, a freedom like heroin, a freedom unmatched. Skin against skin, friction causing tremors as we climaxed together, and we moaned into each other's lips tasting blood on our tongues and warmth in our minds as our heads swam with alcohol and pure, pure ecstasy.

He pulled his hands free and stroked my cheek.

"Shee-it." He said softly, whistling between his teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up in a stranger's house the next morning, a stubbed out cigarette on the bedside table and shy sunlight casting shadows on the floorboards, blood on the sheets. The stranger was lying next to me, cuts on his chest, sleeping.

Dark circles ringed his eyes. One arm lay over the edge of the bed, the other under my head. Even in unconsciousness I was his.

I stood and got dressed, taking care not to make any noise, tracing my steps to retrieve my clothing. Everything in this house screamed at me. Making sure I knew I was not worthy. Oh I knew alright.

My phone was in my dress pocket, the buttons didn't look right. I was still intoxicated. Dialling a number I hoped was someone I knew, I pressed the phone to my ear, looking into Roman's room to check he was still out.

He wasn't there.

A voice answered. "Damn it, kid, where the fuck did you go? I've had your parents calling me all morning asking where you were! Where are you? I'll come and get you." Ah, my good friend Jack.

"Somewhere in a big house. With a guy called Roman. I don't know where he is." I said, puzzled.

"Shit. You're not with the Godfrey kid are you? I'm on my way." He hung up the phone and I called Roman's name before putting the phone back in my pocket.

"Roman!" I shouted again, wandering back into his room only to collapse back onto the bed. My fingers went to my neck and felt the two entry wounds there, blood had dried on my skin. "What the fuck?" I whispered as I failed to remember how they got here.

Fear restricted my breathing and I tore downstairs, slamming the front door of the house behind me. The afternoon sun warmed my face, but the rustle of leaves warned me. Go, they said, go while you still have a heart.

I slid down to sit outside the door, too exhausted to do anything else. I was terrified, but I couldn't bring myself to leave, like I had something to say to him, something to prove. The wood was cold against my back.

I steadied myself, inhale, fuck, exhale, fuck, what happened? The metallic taste of blood was on my tongue, and it stained my skin, red smeared on my chest, on my fingertips, in my mind it throbbed. I should remember this.

My stomach churned and I threw up onto the porch, a lethal mix of alcohol and terror. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I tried to stand. I had no shoes on. Where were my fucking shoes?! I didn't care anymore, I just had to get out of this place.

Stumbling through the wrought iron gates, I heard a car approach, a familiar voice shouting at me, reprimanding.

"Get in the car, kid, today is not going to be a fun day for you. You look like a mess, drink this." He said, handing me a bottle of some green liquid that looked very much the same as what I had just regurgitated as I bent down to get into the car, banging my head on the frame. It tasted good, better than blood and bile, at any rate.

He shifted the stick into gear and pulled off, before a man shouted from inside the gates.

"Leaving so soon?" Roman asked, the corners of his mouth tilting into a smile. I could remember that smile.

"Fuck off, kid, she's going home." Jack said as he wound the window up.

In reply, Roman kissed two fingers and pressed them to the glass, winking at me. He smiled s the car drove off, and I drifted into peaceful sleep, head rolling back, the memory of his smile throbbing in my mind.

I was roused to wakefulness by the car jerking to a stop at traffic lights. Green, amber, red. Red like blood, like anger, like passion. Red like my thoughts.

"Awake, sleeping beauty?" Jack asked, fingertips tapping on the wheel, sun glasses staring straight ahead. He loved those glasses like a child.

I murmured an intelligible reply and reached up to touch the wounds on my neck.

"Look, kid, I know you're new here, but going back to the Godfrey's place was a fucking bad idea. He's a creep. Promise me you won't do that again."

"Uh-huh." My head felt like it was going to split in half, my eyes burned at the daylight. Jack passed his sunglasses over to me, and I mumbled a thanks before pushing them onto my face.

"I'll get you back home and I'll check in on you later. Drink this."

I forced the green liquid down my throat and passed out once more.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time I woke I was in my bed, my curtains drawn and no trace of the night before on my skin. I wondered if I had dreamed the entire thing, but all that disappeared when my mother came bursting in with blatant denial and disgust on her face.

"I do not even know how to handle this situation."

I grunted and sat up, regretting the decision immediately as my head splintered.

"Uugh. Do we have to do this now? I feel like death."

"Not only did you go out, promising to be back by two, and instead having to be picked up by Jack this morning, you also had sex with a complete stranger and didn't call us to tell us you would be late back."

"I haven't been in this damn town twenty-four hours and you're already mad at me for something. I'm not a kid anymore. Fuck, I've been living in a different country for six months, I can look after myself."

"I know you're an adult now, but it's our house, so you can live by our rules, lady. I'll let it slide this once, but next time, if you're not back by two, at least let us know where you are, honey."

"Okay, mom. Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Nuh-uh. I've got you a job at the centre. Today's your first day. He's waiting for you outside."

She threw a black and green uniform at me and stalked out of the room.

I took a wary step out of bed and staggered, clutching onto the headboard for safety. My head felt like it was imploding periodically every five seconds. I got dressed into the long black pencil skirt and lime green T-Shirt before pulling on a denim jacket and black boots and heading out, Jack waiting in his elegant silver Porsche, cigarette in hand.

"I told you today would not be fun, kid. I made you some more of my Anti-Alcohol concoction." He said, handing me a bottle of green.

I took a swig, and got in the car. He passed me two aspirin and I took them gratefully.

"What happened to the blood?" I asked him, wondering what was in this green liquid I was drinking.

"I assumed you wouldn't want your parents to know you were into the rough stuff, so before I dropped you back home I got you into my place and cleaned you up."

"Uh, thanks. I guess."

"Don't get all coy with me, kid, we both know I've seen it all before." He said, winking, before I slapped him on the chest, smirking. "What happened with you and him anyway?" he asked.

"I can barely remember what his name is, sorry."

"Roman Godfrey. It would be advisable for you to remember his name, and make it your business to avoid him at all costs, kid."

"Yes, Uncle Jack." I agreed, winking at him.

The car journey went fast, Mozart blasting from the stereo, a concerto in some depressing key or another.

"Right. All you have to do is water the plants and take the dead ones off the shelves. It shouldn't be too difficult. I've pulled a lot of strings to get you this shitty little job, don't screw it up, kid."

"Jeesh, I won't. Promise." I said as I stalked off to check in with the manager.

She was a small woman, small eyes and a jaw too wide to be human. But nice, she shook my hand and showed me how to spray water on leaves so they didn't look dead. She gave me a badge, my name spelt wrong as usual, before showing me to my work space.

The sun beat down through the greenhouse glass, and sweat beaded on my forehead. Forty-five degrees, sweltering.

The day dragged on and one of the cashier girls, Tara, left early, family emergency. Liar. I was moved to till number 4 and told to smile; don't give discounts; we pool tips; show cleavage.

I could sense him before I could see him, eyes boring into my skull like a drill. He came over with a pot plant in his hands and looked down at my name badge.

"Savannah. Like the plains." He said, eyes flitting to my neck, fingers brushing hair away, smiling. Noticing the two puncture wounds that lay there, he set the plant on the counter. Chrysanthemum.

"Ten dollars." I said curtly, removing his hand from my neck.

"When did you start working here?" he asked, handing me ten dollars. His fingers brushed mine, our eyes locked, my body warmed.

"Today."

"When do you finish?"

"Now." I said, cashing in the ten dollar note and giving him the receipt.

I retrieved my denim jacket from the cashier chair and stood. He picked up his plant and held it to his side, the other hand leading me through the automatic doors on the small of my back. I could feel his skin so close to mine, my head pulsed with dizziness. He looked over to me and smiled, a shining white pill between his teeth.

I should not be doing this. What had Jack said? I couldn't remember, my mind was mist.

He leaned down and passed the pill to me on his tongue. I swallowed.

"What are you?" I asked him, and in reply, he smiled, eyes shining with undiluted euphoria.


	5. Chapter 5

The poor chrysanthemum had been discarded as soon as we reached his car, a red model, old, but kept well, like wine. He had parked at the back of the lot, between a Jeep and a row of trees, strategic. He pinned me against the frame as he opened the door to the back seats, taking my denim jacket from me and tossing it into the front.

The pill had started to work, my heartbeat sped and I was warm, so warm, everywhere.

"Your eyes are so good when you can't see the pupils." He said, smiling and taking a tin from his back pocket. "MDMA. The good stuff." He told me as he lifted one to his lips and gulped.

Climbing into the front of the car, he turned the music on, a slow, lilting melody, sombre and scratched, like a record.

It leaked into my bloodstream, taking me over. My hips swayed, arms raised to the sky, head tilted back, eyes open to the clouds, inviting them in. They were a white so bright heaven would be ashamed, everything was so white.

I felt hands grasp my hips and pull them backwards. I ground them into his, and he turned me around to face him, lips pressing to mine, desperate. His fingers dragged through my hair and he pushed me back to the car. I clambered onto the back seat, pulling my skirt off, my lace underwear too classy for the occasion. He pulled the delicate lace over my knees, and shut the car door behind him as he knelt in front of me. He unbuckled his belt, took his jeans off, boxers gone to free him. His eyes so green, daring me to be scared, challenging me.

He made a line of kisses up my inner calf, my thigh, hands on my knees, my breath quickened. His eyes met mine over my stomach, before he lowered his head to where I needed him. My eyes closed involuntarily as his tongue traced me, lips pressed to me in a silent kiss. My hand fisted in his hair, he felt so good. The roof of the car was grey, blue, opalescent, red, red as blood that pulsed through me. He knew where to touch, where to taste, where to kiss. His fingers tapped the rhythm of the song onto my thigh and I moaned in indescribable pleasure as I came. He was pure danger, pure perfection.

His eyes lifted and he leaned over me, watching me recover, his lips sparkling with my arousal before he pressed them to my neck, fangs bared. He lined them up with last night's endeavours, pressing down gently. Blood flowed dangerously close to the seat of the car before he wiped it away with his thumb and pushed it into my mouth. Copper, whisky, cigarette smoke, familiarity.

"I can see you. Pink and red and fire." He said as he moved his hips and slammed into me. I cried out and pushed a palm to the window and the other to the roof. Pressure unmatched, startling. I wasn't ready. He smiled down at me as he thrust again, and once more I cried his name.

The previous gentleness was gone, and in its place a sadistic fury that consumed the both of us. I could feel it throb in his veins as he got faster, tongue drinking blood from my throat. The pressure built within me and I laughed. I was raging flame against his frozen breath, creating a storm together, a hurricane of fire that blazed, strong, sure, hard.

Our breathing became panting, eyes locked, bodies pulsing, drugged. His thumbs pressed into my waist, I could feel the bruises as he kissed my collarbone and forced himself deeper. I gasped and ground my hips against his, arching my back, needing.

I shouldn't be doing this. Stop. His eyes refused me, stealing my thoughts.

He became more insistent, harder, primal. The hurricane raged inside me and I came again, him not soon after and he buried his face in my neck, exhaling.

A bird sand outside, crystals sparkling on the asphalt road, a distant voice in the garden centre. We weren't alone. He held a hand to my chest, keeping me pressed to the car. His eyes pleaded silently, lips set in seriousness. I couldn't. I sat up, pushing him off me.

"I have to go." I said as I pulled the lace back up my legs, skirt resting on my hips again. He sat on the back seat, watching.

"Yes. You should probably leave." He said, no emotion at all.

"Goodbye, Roman." I said before running to Jack's car.

He was already waiting for me.

"Jesus, kid, not again."


	6. Chapter 6

"You're face is so, so colourful. Your eyes are deeper than the earth, fried in oil, brown glass marbles, brown glass and oil slicks, and your lips! So red, and pink, and fire!" I exclaimed to Jack, stealing Roman's words like he stole mine.

The second wave of MDMA was upon me, and my demon was unleashed, the cage bars bent and broken, blood on the walls.

"Come on, kid, let's get you back to mine."

I threw my arms around his neck, a teenage girl getting drunk for the first time. "Oh, Jack, don't you think we should get to know each other first?" I teased, pressing my lips to his, but he unlaced my hands and pushed me down into the car door, shutting it after me, the leather cold on my back. "But I love you, Jack! You're my best friend!" I screamed, a strangled cry that the demon sent forth. My fingers fumbled with the door handle, trying in vain to open it. My body rocked with anger as I persisted to no avail.

Jack got behind the wheel, handing me a bottle of water that I threw to the floor in a fit of rage.

"Why do you fight against anyone who tries to help.. There's nothing wrong with needing help." He said, picking up the bottle and forcing it onto my hands.

An isolated tear rolled down my cheek, soon becoming a torrent, sobs hacking through my chest like an axe. I felt pathetic, and with the shame came another wave of cries, an exhausted lone wolf howling its sorrow to the skies.

The sun looked down upon me as though I were a speck of dust, insignificant. I sipped at the water, and my eyes expanded like flowers opening at the first sign of day. I could feel it running through my blood, clean, pure, innocent.

I missed Holland, its air and its food and its people and the green flatness of its all, like a pool table. I missed Karina, she would have told me the right thing to do, and I would have listened. I missed how she called all of her cats Cat, not bothering to give them identities. I missed how she would drink wine, holding the glass like it had no stem, fingers curled around it like a dead spider. I missed her scarf collection and her grey eyes and how she brought the good 80% dark chocolate back from her work because she could sense when I was sad. But she was gone now, an angel taken by death, and his son Cancer.

As if a named diagnosis would give me closure, would leave me at peace with her passing. As though naming the cause od death would lessen the load of bricks that were laid on my shoulders the day she drew her last breath. Struggled breath, liquid filling her lungs, drowning in her own life, she told me to smile. She told me to light a candle for her, and watch the flame when I was crying, and she would be there waiting for me, smiling. She always put me first, my dearest friend.

I loved her like a sister, and now there was no candle for me to see her in.

Now it was only Roman, Roman who had dismissed me like a misbehaved mongrel dog.

She wouldn't have wanted me to do this, she would have told me to demand the respect I deserved. I never did believe her.

The car pulled into a driveway, the trailer beyond it pristine and white, the drugs slowly leaving my system. I could taste salt on my lips, tears had dried on my skin and my hair was dishevelled, blood coagulated on my neck.

"Come inside, I'll sort you out." He said as he led me inside the trailer. It smelled of lemons and cinnamon incense. Trigger jumped up at me, his tail wagging with such force he knocked over the ivy plant, soil spilling all over the wooden floor. I collapsed onto the cushion-covered sofa, black and white and red and purple, bruised colours, and Trigger hopped onto my legs, licking my face, taking the tears away.

I smiled, unsure of how happiness was supposed to feel. He was a small dog, fur the colour of burnt cinnamon and heterochromic eyes, one blue, one brown, unsettling, adorable.

I scratched the fir behind his ears, his nose cold against my cheek. I laughed and I heard Jack running a tap, soaking a bright yellow cloth with water and then in salt. He picked Trigger up and held him under one arm, the little dogs' legs running in the air, frantic, wanting to be back on dry land. Contrary to popular belief, dogs are not too fond of flying. Jack set him down on the floor, blocking his way to jump onto the sofa with his leg, and pressed the salt cloth to my neck.

It stung like a wasp seeking revenge for the death of its queen, and I hissed between my teeth. He tied it in a knot and let Trigger back up to sit next to me, his tail still wagging frantically.

"You love me, don't you puppy?" I asked him, leaning down to kiss his nose, and he licked my chin in response.

"They spelt my name wrong on my tag. Savannah. They put a H on the end and an extra N in the middle. S-A-V-A-N-A. That's how you spell it." I told Trigger, and Jack snorted in laughter.

"Still drugged up." He stated, and handed me the bottle of water. I drank it in one, wanting this heavenly above-ness to end.

My hands were cold, so I buried them in fur, and the little dog wriggled his nose into my side, the bruises from Roman's hands aching, but the warmth lessened the pain.

"I do love you though, Jack. You know that, right?" I asked.

He reached over from the chair on the other side of the trailer to brush hair away from my eyes.

"Of course I do, kid." He smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

"Don't leave me, Jack. Promise me." I pleaded, sounding as pathetic as I felt.

He cupped my chin with his hand and swore upon all the God's that he wouldn't, eye contact never once wavering. I didn't believe him. No-one could promise that. Not even my Jack.

This little terrier had fallen asleep, his head on my thigh, snoring softly.

"What happened to the people who used to live here?" I asked, curiosity consumed me. There was still a cardboard box full of Jack's stuff on the kitchen counter.

"They just left. The realtor didn't think it would get sold, what with the history, but with new windows and a lick of paint, it's good as new. And no neighbours. The son was friends with the Godfrey kid, and everyone thought his mama was a nutjob too. I liked her though, she stole things from the store; I admired her." He told me, eyes lowered to the floor in shame. "I know it's wrong." He said, laughing to himself.

I smiled down at the dog and stroked his ears, velvet against rough fingertips, rough from rebellious tree climbing, and guitar lessons long given up.

"I should call my parents, tell them where I am." I said, reaching for my jacket. It wasn't there. Oh shit.

"Jack, did I leave my jacket in your car?" I asked, heartbeat raised, deep down knowing where the length of ragged denim really was.

"You didn't get in my car with a jacket on." He said, eyes widening as the realisation dawned on his too. "No, no way, Savana."

"Please, Jack, I need my phone back. Please please please." I begged, untying the yellow cloth from my neck, wiping away residual salt water with the back of my hand. Trigger woke with the movement, yawned, and stumbled over to his basket. "I'll fuck you if you do this for me." I winked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine. No sex, but a jar of that nice caramel coffee will do just fine."

"Done!" I said, running to get his car keys, and saying goodbye to Trigger, stroking his head. He opened his eyes and gave a feeble wag of his tail.

As we pulled into the Godfrey's drive, I spotted the familiar red car alone on the gravel.

"Doesn't he live with anyone else?" I asked Jack.

"His mom died last month, there are still people who think it was him, and his sister was accused of murder but they never found her. All alone in that big old house, no wonder he's gone mad. " He explained.

"So I've fucked a psychopath then. I can cross that one off the bucket list." I said, laughing. Jack wasn't, so I made to get out of the car.

"No. I'll go and get it." He told me, opening the door.

I clasped his wrist. "We'll go together. I can fight my own battles, Jack."

"Fine." He said, lips set in grim determination.

My vomit was gone from the porch, but I could still smell the whisky. And see the light hidden behind the tunnel of darkness in his tired eyes.

I rapped on the door with my knuckles, but before I could count to three, it was opened, a sadistic grin on the other side.

"Come in." He told me, and I felt obliged, my feet stepping over the threshold without my permission. His eyes captured me, holding me hostage in their depth. He didn't know how beautiful he was.

"Savana. We're here to get your jacket back. That's it." Jack reminded me.

"The one you left in my car?" Roman asked, a corner of his mouth lifting like a hunter shooting his first stag, aiming the barrel to its heart, seeing its misted breath in the waning light of dusk, trees whispering 'shoot'.

"Yes." I answered, all oxygen leaving my lungs, rats from a sinking ship, knowing I could not be saved from this man.

He disappeared into a room to the left, the doorframe littered with hairline scars, perhaps from a blade, maybe fingernails. I followed him in, much to Jack's disapproval.

"Savana!" He hissed. "Savana!"

With a vague flick of my hand, I walked through the scratched door. The heavy velvet curtains were still drawn. He was waiting for me, my denim jacket over one arm, looking at me, a silent plea. I shut the door behind me and heard Jack sigh in annoyance outside.

Roman let my jacket slide to the floor and closed the distance between us, pulling my lips up to meet his, desperate.

"We both know what this is." He said between kisses. He needed me, I could feel it in his tongue, in the way his hands fisted in my hair, his body so close to mine.

"I know." Was my only reply.

It seemed like an eternity before we broke away, glaciers collapsing underneath their own weight, glass cracking under the heat of a flame.

"Don't go." He commanded, pulling my hips to his, eyes locked to my soul. I could feel his wanting, taste it on my eyelids. He saw me, pink and red and fire.

I picked up the denim from the floor and turned to leave.

"Tomorrow. The restaurant next to the Ice Cream place. I'll pick you up at 7." He said, fingers wrapped around my wrist.

I turned back to look at him, about to ask how he knew where I lived, but the question dissolved as it dawned on me that he knew everything. "I didn't know you did dates." I said instead.

"I don't." He replied, the light returning to his eyes.

"7:30." I told him, making my way out of the room, the smell of oak furniture and his aftershave roiling in my mind.

"Have you just agreed to what I think you've just agreed to?!" Jack stared, shocked into silence. "Oh, my dear Savana, what will I do with you?" He asked, shaking his head and walking back to the car.

I closed the black door and turned to see Roman looking out of the window in front of the curtains, the shadow of darkness once again filling the edges of his vision. He looked so sad, so angry, so alone.

I held up the jacket in an abstract 'thanks' and he lifted a hand in recognition.

This as a different man to the one in the car earlier. This was a man trying to hide his brokenness. He couldn't do that to me, I was trying to do the same. A shadow trying to be human, straw trying to spin itself into gold, we were myths that people thought were religion.

7:30 tomorrow. I shuddered and wondered what I was doing.

When Jack dropped me off he clipped a short 'see you' and drove off. I could smell his fear, taste his disappointment. Were those tired green eyes really worth it, Karina?

I drifted to sleep without thinking of anything other than 7:30 tomorrow. What was he doing to me? I shivered and dreamed of hands running down my torso, lips on my neck, green laser eyes, erasing all the pain. Fangs pierced my skin, and the body above mine dissolved into red dust; copper, whisky, cigarette smoke. I awoke screaming, watching the moon appear from behind the clouds, impregnated with light.

I definitely did not know what this is.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day was spent at the garden centre, dreading the second I would realise I had to leave to go home. That second was upon me too soon, and as I left in Jack's car, he told me to be careful, and dropped me outside the porch.

It took me an entire thirty minutes to decide what to wear and a further hour to fix my hair and my makeup so I looked presentable.

I decided on a low-cut black dress in chiffon and high-heeled red stilettos. Underneath the dress I chose the sexiest lingerie I owned, black and lace. I knew the night would not be over without sex, and that thrilled me. I had never had this guarantee before.

I looked in the mirror and was happy with who looked back at me; she was not me. I had curled my long blonde hair, and secured two side braids with clips at the side of my head. It looked naive, and that was exactly how I felt. But my face was different, my face made me look like a whore. Black eyeliner framed my gold eyes, winged at the edges. Red lipstick and red nails. Skin tanned and flawless with the help of skin powder and years of daily moisturising.

I wore no jewellery, just the ring around my index finger of my right hand that was never removed, a gold dragon, rubies for eyes, tail curled around its neck. It was an heirloom, one of those clichéd objects that everyone owned.

It was 7:20. My brain felt fused to my spine, I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I was an unsuspecting dragonfly watched by a collector, watched until it sets off in flight, thinking it would return to that very same tree where it spent it's nights, before the net descended and a pin was stuck through its abdomen, pinning it in place, being framed in a glass cabinet with the other corpses. I was waiting for my demolition, and I knew it, yet I was not scared anymore.

I should have been, but I could see the light in his eyes, just as he could see me, pink and red and fire. I was bound to him, no matter whether it was my own influence or his.

7:29.

I was trapped in that minute, lost in the paradox of what I was and what I should be.

7:30.

There was a knock on the door. My parents were out. They didn't know what I was doing.

I had to prepare myself as I turned the key in the lock. It clicked, I pushed the handle down. I pulled and the door swung open like it wanted me to do this.

His eyes were slate against my legs as I sat on the roof as a teenager, sun on my skin as I saw a mermaid as a child as I swam in the sea, paper on my fingertips as I read the last book in the library, teeth on my skin as blood flowed to my chest, copper and whisky and cigarette smoke. His eyes were my life in green and gold.

He wore a fitted Milano blazer and those skinny jeans he was so fond of, a white shirt with ironed cuffs, black shoes polished by someone else's hands. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at me through those eyelashes like prison bars, locking me up in handcuffs. He smiled and stepped back, an arm gesturing to the red Jaguar waiting out on the road.

I walked out, locking the door behind me. He ran his hands over the curve of my hips, leaning down to kiss my neck.

"You smell divine." He whispered as he pulled me back to him; I could feel his growing erection against my tailbone.

I smiled as I wriggled out of his grasp and let myself into his car. He stood by the porch, eyes wide, lips questioning. I raised an eyebrow and tapped the dashboard. He shook his head in disbelief before reluctantly walking to the driver's side and starting the engine.

The drive to the restaurant was slow, a rabbit in the headlights, a taste test, watching my limits. I had none. I felt bones crunch beneath the wheels. I was heartless. I didn't even blink.

He looked over at me, turning an electro album on the stereo, tapping the beat on the shift. He smiled without his mouth, and my chest collapsed, ribs digging into lungs, my kidneys were too big, my heart too small, my blood too hot. My eyes stung like a sandstorm was raging inside them. I could feel my eardrums sharpen, I could hear his hair move as he inhaled.

Then his eyes were gone. I was safe.

Shadows danced at the edges of my vision, the darkness was upon me, I was the celibate whore.

"Pull over." I commanded, my hand reaching over to touch the line beneath his cheekbones, down his throat, over his arm, turning his hand palm up on the shift, tracing the heart line as it collapsed into the fate line, the crosses that formed his life line. This was why.

"Really?"

"Pull over." I repeated.

He pulled into a clearing in the forest.

I opened the car door, and walked towards a tree, stroking the bark, pressing my ear to it. "What are you telling me?!" I screamed, and the leaves rustled in the wind. "What have I forgotten?! If I can forget then I can remember! Let me remember!"

I felt a wetness on my cheek, and it took me a while to realise I was crying. And it took me even longer to notice the arms around my shoulders, and that the tree had been replaces by a solid mass of muscle and skin and bone and Milano blazer. A hand was stroking my hair, and a voice was saying 'shh'.

I broke out of the embrace.

"Fuck off!" I screamed at him, and ran into the autumn darkness.

I felt footsteps following me but I was faster, I always had been, even in stilettos. I didn't want to be faster anymore, I wanted to remember. I wanted the shadows to leave.

I tripped over an unseen object and tumbled over, chiffon tearing on rocks, stilettos breaking at the speed I had reached. He reached me just as I stood, leaves tangled in my hair, black eyeliner smudged with tears. I blinked them away and took his head in my hands, forcing his down to kiss me.

I needed to remember what he felt like; if nothing else, I needed to remember what he tasted like.

I frantically tore his blazer off and threw it to the ground, pulling the shirt so hard the buttons flew over the forest floor. He pulled my dress over my head, lips breaking for but a moment before they met again. I was so desperate, I needed this so much, I needed him, I needed to feel close to someone again. It was a flurry of clothing and skin, lips bruised with need.

"What the fuck are you?" I asked as I traced the fangs with my tongue. I remembered this, this didn't scare me. Vampires didn't exist. He was merely a freak of nature. A medical anomaly.

"You would never believe me." He replied as he unhooked his belt and stepped out of his trousers. I lay on the ground, pulling him down with me, and rolled s I was atop him, knees on either side of his hips. He took control flipping me onto my back, unhooking my bra. The moon was hidden behind clouds. A razor blade fell out of one of the cups and I took it and pressed it to my wrist, nicking one of the minor veins. It was not the first time.

I pressed it to his lips, and he drank, eyes locked onto mine as I rolled over again. I needed to be in control. I pulled his boxers down with my free hand and took him in my mouth. His fangs dug into the wound, moaning deep in his throat.

My tongue slid over the soft skin like silk over metal. He tasted of snow and fear, loneliness and gold blood shining as I bled into him, gold eyes, green eyes, the length of him between my lips. I could feel his climax stirring and I lifted my head, pulling my wrist away.

"No." He said, flipping me onto my back again, pulling the black lace over my knees like he had once before. He lifted both of my hands over my head, trapped in one of his. With the other he braced himself before entering me, lips pressed to mine in pure desperation.

He was frenzied, like a rabid dog, I was the unfortunate rabbit in the headlights, bones crunching beneath tyres. He let my hands go and I ran my fingers through his hair as he pushed deeper, fingers digging into my waist. I reached for the razor blade, but he noticed and took it from my grasp.

"No." He said as he bared his fangs and withdrew from me, biting down my stomach, tongue tracing my sweet wetness. I sighed and clutched a handful of dead leaves. I could feel rain on my skin, ice on fire. He moved to my inner thigh, drawing blood from the artery that pulsed there.

"What the fuck are you?" I cried to the rain, arching my back, reaching down to stroke his hair. He lifted his head, blood on his lips, looking into my eyes.

"Have you not figured it out yet?" He asked me as he climbed back up to kiss me.

"Shut up and fuck me." I ordered and we became one body, writhing in equilibrium, ecstasy running in our veins, blood smeared over our skin, our lips, moving together like a symphony. I bit my lip and drew blood unintentionally.

He kissed me and his pupils dilated. "Fuck. How. Can. You. Not. Forget." He panted between thrusts.

"Because I don't remember either." I replied, sighing in unknown euphoria as I came, harder than I ever had done before.

"Neither do I." He agreed as he did too, and he kissed me, only copper. Copper lips and gold eyes, a metal plate in my spine. I was the metallic girl, the one forged by fire. I was fucking Katniss Everdeen, Iron Man, I was the flame incarnate, kidneys too big, a heart too small, ribs digging into lungs, blood to hot.

"You are fucking hard work." He told me and I laughed at the irony.

He fucked me again twice that night, and the rain fell between us, we drank it, bathed in it, lips bruising each other, fingers bruising skin, confusion bruising minds. We were continuous, a circle of fighting elements, fire, air, water, earth, spirit.

We were Ouroboros.


	9. Chapter 9

We did not sleep all night. When we finally stirred to leave our paradise it was dawn, sunrise like a forbidden fruit, yet we tasted it regardless. He squinted into the light, sweat gleaming on his skin, naked, Adonis destroyed.

"What are you?" I asked, fingers running over his chest as I lay beside him, his servant, his slave.

"What would logic determine me to be?"

"A freak of nature, a medical anomaly."

He bared his fangs and parted my legs with his as he manoeuvred himself on top of me. He grazed my shoulder with his teeth, tongue running over the puncture wounds that had still not healed, fingers on my thigh, stroking them there too.

"Vampires don't exist." I told him.

"I never said they did." He smiled, eyes glittering like water over glass.

"Fuck it. I don't care anyway." I said in defiance, my mind swimming with possibilities. If he wasn't a vampire, then why did he bite me? He could be a psychopath. Or a hardcore Dracula fan. And why did I like it?

I was dark, but not that dark.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his eyes locking onto mine. "This never happened."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, ignoring the clouds forming in my mind like smoke. Wind in my hair as I flew on a dragon, scales glittering green, dust in my eyes, red dust, blinding. Shadows danced for me like nymphs. I was a Goddess amongst the trees, my memories were my subjects, and oh, how they danced for me. They danced and danced and disbanded; one by one they left me. He had taken them once again, and I did not care.

I was so wet, as he looked down at me, the smile gone; only the darkness remained. The darkness and the stolen shadows.

'Stop. Stop now. Stop before you are forced to your knees. Stop before he takes everything you have.' I could hear Karina in my mind, a warning.

"Stop." I said, pushing him off me with hands too weak, sitting up with muscles too feeble. "I shouldn't be here. I saw my shadows in your eyes. You took them. What are you?" I sighed into the whispers of the forest.

"I am upir." He uttered, staring me down as he sat with his arms around his knees beside me.

"Umm. What?" I had to suppress a smirk.

"I am a Russian daywalker that feeds from the tender blood of children." He said, straight-faced and honesty burning like ice through my chest. He placed his hands behind him, palms flat to the forest floor, mud beneath his fingernails.

A laugh burst forth from my stomach. "You nearly had me then!" I chuckled, slapping his chest with the back of my hand.

A smile curved his lips to an arch, and amusement made his eyes sparkle.

"And there I was assuming you were gullible." He told me. "But then again, if you were, you wouldn't be here." His smile faded, only to be replaced by a look of mourning, eyes dull with grievance.

"Oh Roman, don't go all sad and pathetic. That's not the fucking creep I'm used to." I said with a wink as I lifted a leg over his hips, straddling his thighs.

He lay back down and laced his fingers behind his head. I sat down on his knees, bending down to kiss his navel, lips winding their way up to his throat. A growl rumbled in his stomach, then his throat, and I stood to leave.

"What are you doing?" He asked, a tone of alarm between his words. My vision went blank, and I saw him, green eyes glittering like dragon scales, blood on his lips, the asphalt sidewalk black in contrast to his alabaster flesh. I was thrown back to the present and the mist concealed my memory once again.

"Breakfast." I announced, temporarily stunned before a smile broke out like a lunar eclipse. I made my way back to his car, retrieving various items of clothing on the way. He followed like a lost dog, obeying its master until the time was right to bite the hand that fed him.

Shirtless and trembling on the sidewalk, a body twitching beneath him, blood on his lips.

The mist returned and I forgot.

He turned the keys in the ignition, fully clothed, looking over at me with feigned concern.

We drove for as long as it took for the sun to rise to the centre of the sky and the clouds to veil its light, my head resting on the window, feeling the air conditioning stroke my cheek.

He bought me pancakes and a black coffee, and a line of coke for him. Cutting it finely with one of his many credit cards before snorting it with a red-striped straw from the counter. Nobody noticed; nobody cared.

It took all of my energy to prevent the words 'You should stop.' from leaving my lips. I did not love this man; I had known him for three days, I shouldn't care.

My shadows hit as hard as they could against their cell, fingernails bleeding and tears streaming down cheeks. I could feel the bars creak under the assault, but they would not break for as long as I was alive; the shadows would never escape. My memories were lost forever.

And suddenly all the weight of the world crashed onto my shoulders, their claws digging into my eyes, teeth in my chest, tearing out my heart, tearing out my everything, making me see the death, the war, the children as they starved. It latched itself onto my spinal column, where the bone meets the brain stem, clinging to my very life force by forcing itself deep into my mind.

I gasped in agony, the agony of the thousands, and I could feel the darkness at the edges of my vision, forcing me to unconciousness, falling, falling off my chair sideways, the white linoleum rushing up to meet my face, falling.

And then it consumed me, the dying sigh of a woman on the black asphalt ringing in my ears, the startlingly pale face of the man looming at her throat the last thing I saw.


End file.
